Waking up Depressed

Waking up Depressed

There was no weird dream, or any dream, really, that made me feel depressed when I woke up this morning. I don’t know why I feel depressed at this hour. The day hasn’t even started. I was reading about a friend of mine that killed himself a little over six months ago. A friend had written the most beautiful story about him. It was found out that my friend that died, actually did suffer from depression, something I didn’t know. I was never close to him. Just an acquaintance from long ago when our lives were just starting out. We never hung out while we were adults. I never really hung out with him as a young one either. But he was special. I had suffered my depression, in silence and alone. No one knew the depths of my depression. I always tried to keep it hidden from people. It just was not talked about.

My therapist and psychiatrist are probably the only two people on the planet that have seen my horrible, suicidal depressions. I can’t say that I am suicidal right now as I still am trying to wake up. I need breakfast and coffee. Maybe then my depression that I feel right now will lift some. I just feel really down and like the walls are closing in around me. I haven’t seen my therapist in two weeks because she has been on vacation. I see her Tuesday but that day seems so far away from now. I’m starting to feel hopeless that I will ever get “better”. I don’t even know what that means. People always talk about recovery with mental illness, but I have yet to experience it. My mood always seems to go from one extreme to back to my low level depression and stay there. I don’t experience job or happiness. I don’t know what those are anymore. With my disability check this month, I decided to “spoil” myself and get the Harry Potter book collection. I felt I had earned that since I just came out of yet another suicidal depression. I was to kill myself on the 17th of this month. It got foiled because I told my therapist and my psychiatrist I was suicidal. If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here, writing this blog.

My depressions have gotten worse as I get older. They last longer and are deeper than they were when I was younger. I have been suffering from these depressions since I was 15, but probably longer than that. I didn’t receive the help that I need until I was in my teens. That was when I had enough and wanted to die. I still want to die. I can’t imagine living this life yet I just continue to exist. It is a painful existence. It feels like my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces and I don’t know why that is. I just feel really down. I have no interest in doing anything today, even though I have to go pick up my prescription. I am totally out of this medication that I need. I am also out of my vitamin D, but that should come in tomorrow. If I am able to borrow my sister’s car, I will try and go out today, but I can’t make any promises. It’s just a struggle to get dressed and ready to do things outside the house. It is tiring when you already feel like you have no energy or motivation. But I got to do it, even though I feel lousy. Maybe while I am at the pharmacy, I can go food shopping and get my favorite burgers. I haven’t had a burger in a few weeks. It is my favorite food, aside from pizza. BallPark came out with burger patties that are very good and easy to make. I like food that is easy to make as I can’t really cook. I need specific instructions/recipe to cook. I am not like my mother that just puts the oven on and cooks for a half hour and then say the meal is done. She did that the other night to the French fries and fish she was making. It was soggy. I would have cooked it a little more so it was crispy. But then she doesn’t have teeth so need soft things.

I made my coffee and had some left over Chinese food for “breakfast”. I didn’t feel like making eggs so I just had something that was already cooked. Even making the simplest things are hard when you are depressed. I used to love making an egg for breakfast, usually fried or scrabbled, with cheese on toast. But when you think of all that you have to do to make it, put the bread in the toaster, get the butter for the pan, crack the egg, season the egg, etc., it is tiring when you are feeling low. Even my coffee is hard when I am this depressed. I have to measure out the coffee, boil the water, get my favorite mug that I use, put two sugars in the cup. Pour the water after it boils. Wait 4 long minutes for the grounds to brew. I am ready for a nap and I haven’t even done anything strenuous. Lately, coffee hasn’t been doing its magic. It’s more like taking a sedative. I am up for a little while and then I crash and need a nap desperately. I don’t know why that is. And I am drinking quality coffee, Starbucks! It is the only coffee I will drink because it is the one that I can make using my French press.

I am looking forward to my therapist being back this week. I hope she can do her thing that gives me hope so it drives away the hopelessness away. Until then, I guess I will have to suffer through this horrible depression, again, alone.

Tough Day

Tough Day

I am feeling like a complete loser and failure at the moment. I reluctantly saw my anxious psychiatrist today. She knows I usually get there early but because her front office staff changed, they didn’t page her when I checked in. She got really worried but was happy to see me when I came to her office. We talked, about what I don’t really remember. Just was feeling sorry for myself. I know I told her about how my PCP always gives me a hard time about my weight. She asked if it was critical or not. It’s hard to tell with him because he is so dry. We then started talking about my writing. She told me about a writer’s group in my area. I looked it up and it’s actually in Downtown. I will have to check it out. They have a free writers hour next Wednesday. I hope I remember to go. I was on my phone looking them up so a couple of the links weren’t really working.

I took the train home like I always do. When I got to a stop, a lady with a walker literally forced someone out of the spot for disability. I couldn’t believe how rude she was. Course the guy saw her and didn’t move to offer her the seat, but that was beside the point. I would have hollered back saying you don’t have to be so rude. I have seen people do that before but never in that manner. The bus was late when I got to my stop. It’s always fricken late. Sometimes it doesn’t even show up. And it was a crazy bus driver that had lead on the gas. I hate when buses drive fast. It gives me anxiety.

I mailed my therapist her first packet of letters. I am kind of finding it easy to type so she doesn’t have to struggle to read my handwriting. I have bad handwriting. Sometimes, I can’t even make out what I wrote. So the next packet will be a mix of written and typed letters. Writing to her helps. But it’s detracting me from my own writing.

I have been thinking about opening a new checking account to a bank that is across the street from me. This is so I don’t have to go to the Square for when I have to deposit a check. But I need a bank that will accept foreign currency as direct deposits. I still am having trouble with my royalties being paid to me because my bank rejects it. This is because it is not USD. Citizen’s has a one deposit checking account that supposedly has no fees as long as you deposit at least once a month. But I got to call them to find out about the currency policy. I don’t want to open the new account and then run into the same problem.

I woke up this morning with my ankle killing me. It hasn’t improved as the day went on. I haven’t walked more than I normally have so I don’t know why it’s bothering me. I really want to be more active but my damn ankle makes it impossible. I think the new medicine is working as the tightness around my ankle is less, which hopefully means the swelling of the tendons has gone down some. It’s not completely gone, but it is less. Only thing that sucks with this medicine is that I have to eat with it, which sometimes isn’t ideal. I try to take it with food or after a meal. Otherwise, I just don’t take it. This is an NSAID known to cause stomach bleeding so I don’t want to mess with it.

Random 582

There is a new screening tool for suicide assessment risk that people in Australia created. I read the study to the point where they said that even though the SSF is “the gold standard” for clinical work, it is “inconvenient” as a research and screening tool because of the qualitative answers. Soon as I read that, I stopped reading. Then I skipped to the back where they had the questions and literally laughed out loud. It DIRECTLY asks if you are going to attempt suicide someday. All I could say was “duh”. Can’t get more direct than that! No wonder it is a “great” screening tool. But more astonishing than that, there were over 1000 people who volunteered for this study with “no funding as reported by the authors”. HUH?? How can you conduct a large research study and have no funds to do it? It just sounds suspicious to me. I do like the screening tool and think that it will be valuable, if people in the US actually fucking use it. I have place it here ABCs of suicide risk assessment so you can form your own opinions.

Tomorrow is approaching faster than I would like. In less than twenty-four hours, I see my pdoc to discuss how things are. I still feel dejected. I really don’t want to be here but what choice do I have. If I say that I am still going through with my plan, my pdoc will take measures to ensure my safety. And I really don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s a pain in the ass in all accounts you can possibly think of. Sure it will keep me from myself but I have been doing fine with that the past few weeks. If I was going to do something, I think I would have done something by now. I will just take some Neurontin and sleep. This is the only drug that works for me to zone me out. And it’s safe as it leaves your system in eight hours or so. Only thing that sucks is that it can give you a hangover. But that is why they make coffee. I will NOT go out to Starbucks like I did last Saturday. The days where I trust the T are over after I got stranded in the Square last weekend. I don’t know what I would have done if my sister wasn’t home that day.

I still need to write a letter to my therapist today. I probably will do that later tonight. I was in a “Hyde” mood last night that got broken up by a fellow blogger checking in with me. We chatted until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. It was late, past 0100 my time. She is on the west coast so it was “early” for her. I think there is a three hour difference in our zones. It was helpful to talk because we randomly talk about anything and everything. She was in a hypo state and I was trying to keep up with her typing but because I had already taken my meds, I was slow.

It’s finally a cool day. No humidity and medium temps. I like it when it’s in the late 60’s, early 70’s. It’s perfect walking weather. And I did some walking today that my ankle didn’t like. But oh well, I had to walk from A to B to get to where I was going. There was no other way to get there but my own two feet. And it was too short a distance for a cab. It would cost too much and besides, by the time the cab came, I would be at my father’s apartment. But the streets are level so my ankle didn’t like it. I had inclines and broken pavement to maneuver. I was supposed to go to the post office today to mail the first packet of letters for my therapist but I forgot the letters at home. I was mad at myself. I will have to do it tomorrow before my appointment with my pdoc. I will have plenty of time as I will be in the Square at least an hour before the appointment.

I am feeling really sad about not being able to kill myself. I am also feeling angry because I am being made to live a life I don’t want to. With all my pain that I experience, both physically and mentally, I just cannot take it anymore. I feel stupid for letting my treaters know of my plans. Maybe my ambivalence is what made me tell them. Or my fear that I wouldn’t succeed anyway. I am going to be grumpy the next few days. I already am grumpy and upset but even more so. I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow morning, that I die in my sleep. But that doesn’t happen in my family. They just die of old age. I don’t want to live to be old. I will die one day and it will be soon. I just don’t know when.

Left to my Own Devices

I am having a late coffee that I hope will keep me up the next few hours. I have been so tired all day that I have been sleeping it away, without medication of any sort! My pain has been minimal but it’s so hot in the house that I rarely leave my room except to eat and use the facilities. Even though I have had coffee, I feel like I can go back to sleep. I haven’t had dinner yet. The coffee is killing whatever hunger pains I may have. So it might be a late dinner tonight. I now have my undivided attention to this blog because I am not expecting my mother to call me. Unless Twitter distracts me…

I decided to type a letter to my therapist today rather than write it. I told her of my day, similar to the first paragraph and also about other things. I had a page written before I knew it. I wish I could write something for my book as fast. I have been going back and forth with editing for my book. I have to enter the edits into the word doc. It’s always a pain because I usually have to use the search button to find the place I am looking for. I have decided the last three blogs are not going into the book. It doesn’t fit with what I am writing, not unless I copy and paste things. I might do that. Then I can go back to writing, least that is what I am hoping. But it doesn’t happen on demand. I think I am better off writing at night because my mood is darker then than during the day. I have three nights before baseball returns. Sox will be on the west coast so the games won’t be until after 2200 east coast time. I hate the west coast games because it just further disrupts my sleeping. I usually can’t sleep right away after the game ends around 0100. And I am up till at least 0300. This is the first time that I am having coffee at like four in the afternoon so I might be up till three anyways.

I miss my therapist, even though it’s only been a week since we last talked. Another week and a half before I talk with her again. I don’t know if she will be in Hawaii the whole time or not. I do hope she has fun, even though she is dreading the trip. I am dreading seeing my pdoc on Friday. I don’t know what kind of mood I will be in. I know I won’t be catching the 10 o’clock bus again. That was too early. I was supposed to catch the 1053 bus but my brain was foggy when I woke up and thought it was the 953 bus I needed to get. There is no 953 bus! I really don’t want to see her. But I am afraid that if I don’t, she will be worried. Hardest thing about being suicidal is trusting a psychiatrist with your thoughts. You always have the fear of being hospitalized against your will once it has been done to you. I have had it happen more than once in my lifetime. I have had more hospitalizations than I can count. In fact, I have lost track of how many I have had. More than 30 by now, at least. It doesn’t make talking about suicide any easier. But my psychiatrist is and has been open to talking about it. She knows me better than anyone. We have worked together for more than twenty years. We have built up a trust that is hard to shake. Most people go through psychiatrists like they were going out of style. I just have had one my whole therapeutic life. Therapists are a different story. I have had more than I care to share. I never thought I would find someone stable in the therapy business. I was seeing on every year for the first 11 years. Now here it is 14 years later and I have the same one. Both of my treaters trust me more than anyone that deals with suicide. I don’t know if it is because they know I won’t go through with my plans or they seem to intervene before it gets too late. I still feel dejected and depressed that I didn’t go through with my plans. If you can’t keep a promise to yourself, what good is making promises? Yet I have also promised these people that if I were in dire straits, I would reach out to them. They also know that I bring myself in when I need to. That has changed because the hospital, for various reasons, is no longer my safe haven it once was. Don’t get me wrong, people need these places for safety. But I used to go there for care that I needed and I no longer get it. It’s just talk for a few minutes and then a few days later, you are out whether you like it or not. I had to fight to stay in last time and it was a real struggle. I also knew that if I was out when I heard about Robin Williams, I would not be talking to you right now. His loss was so devastating to me, as it was to millions of people. But I was in a dark place, darker than I had ever been and if I wasn’t in the hospital, I dread to think what might have happened. Both of my treaters were on vacation at the time so I would be left to my own devices.

I haven’t heard from my writing partner and I have a feeling that those emails are going to be far and in between. She has been posting on various social media so I know she is writing. She has a new book that she just finished before her wedding and is promoting it. I need ways to promote my book because I don’t think it is going to sell very well unless I come up with some good marketing strategies. Problem is, I am not a marketing person! I don’t have the first clue how to sell something. I just hope that Facebook and Twitter works their magic and my book sells. I do belong to some author groups on FB but they mostly advertise romance/erotic novels, which is not my genre. I actually have no idea what my genre is, other than fiction, maybe. But it’s based on my delusions, which is in real life so not sure what category to put my book in.